Page 12 of Let's Pretend I'm Okay

I head out of the office, toward the car, and stop where the sky bridge connects the medical building to the parking lot. I watch the rush of traffic zooming underneath me through the large glass windows and tap my fingers to the hum of the cars.

Papa comes through the door and stands next to me. He loops his arm around my shoulders and follows my gaze.

“She still hasn’t come out?” I ask.

Papa is a quiet man. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a good listener. I think that’s why he gets along so well with Mama. She’s talkative and imaginative, and he keeps her grounded. I’ve always loved their relationship. A lot of my friend’s parents seemed to have grown apart through the years, but my parents are still close.

“She will when she’s ready,” he says.

I lean into him, resting my head. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my time just feeling sick.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I know.”

“Do you think she’ll understand?”

Papa sighs. “Not right away, but I’ll talk to her.” I can tell from his tone he’s tired and upset by the news, but he doesn’t show his pain the same way Mama does. I’ve never seen himcry, but he’s holding on to me like he’s afraid of letting me go.

I let myself sink farther into him like I did when I was a little girl. “Papa, will you do something for me?”

“Anything for you, Bug.” Even though he says that, there’s a hesitation in his voice.

I smile at my nickname. It never gets old. I’m Bug and my twin sister is Bear, but those names are reserved specifically for Papa. It’s like he copyrighted those names for us when we were little. No one dares try and use them.

I pull away enough to look him in the eyes. “Let’s pretend I’m okay. I don’t want to tell anyone about this yet. Not even Annie.”

His eyes falter, and he shifts his weight. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll tell people eventually, but I don’t want to feel like my life is over already. Don’t you think we could pretend for a little bit?”

Papa scratches the back of his head. “How long are we talking because I’m not a good actor.”

I laugh softly. “A few weeks at most. I promise. I won’t pretend too long. I just want a little time to live normally.”

He thinks about it, staring at the traffic below us. “If that’s really what you want.”

I give him a hug. “I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, Bug,” he says, squeezing me tight.

There’s still no sign of Mama, and I know what I have to do. She’s someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. She may have gone into the bathroom to hide the fact she’s upset, but she’s not hiding anything. She’s making it more obvious, and I need to go talk to her. That’s the only way she’ll be able to move on from this moment.

“I’m going to go check on Mama,” I say.

He nods. “I’ll go warm the car.”

I head back inside and walk to the bathroom, where a small line has formed. I skip ahead to the front of the line. “Sorry, I’m just going to check on her really quickly.” I knock. “Mama?”

“I’m not coming out.” Her voice is strained from crying. She isn’t used to failure. If she had enough time, she’d probably find the cure to cancer. Giving up isn’t who she is. I know that, but I’m not giving up. I’m accepting fate.

“Could you open the door please?” I ask.

“No.”

There’s a groan from one of the people behind me. “This is the only bathroom on this floor,” they mumble.

I knock again. “There are other people that need to use the bathroom.”

“I don’t care.”

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